Sanctuary
by Sakon76
Summary: When the end of the world happened, the Guardians had to step up to the plate to protect what could be saved. A story of after.
1. The Fortress

**Sanctuary: The Fortress**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 21st December, 2012

Jack missed the moon. His yearning, his _need_ to see the moon again, even if Manny was silent, was like a knife in his chest.

But the moon was obscured, and under the dingy gray clouds of this winter, the snow did not sparkle. It was not clean and white. Nothing, nothing was pure anymore.

And it was so cold.

Letting the wind carry him, he closed his eyes and stretched out his senses, reaching for any _trace_ of warmth. Anything that might still be alive, or indicate life.

He found nothing, for as far as he could sense. Just cold and gray, death and ruin.

Today's had been a very long and futile search. Keeping his eyes closed against tears that wanted to spill, Jack whispered, "Wind, take me... take me home."

The wind whirled him away.

* * *

The structure in Antarctica was called the Fortress, or, more casually, the Fort. Jack had started it as a playground. But when it had been needed, it had exploded, growing up and out and down on its own without his conscious control. Jack had found it disconcerting at first, but he'd always known where he was in it, and he'd had no time then to worry. Later, when things had gotten less hectic, he'd asked Toothiana, and found that all the spirits' "hideouts," as he'd once called them, had the habit of doing the same. They were as big as they needed to be. Luckily.

Nowadays, the Fortress looked like an enclosed crystal city carved of ice and snow. Its pale blue glow on the horizon was a balm for Jack, proof that life still existed in the world. He could feel the warmth inside, hundreds of people living and breathing, protected from the weather and the fallout.

It was a small beacon of light in the middle of darkness, and seemed so very fragile.

But it had survived for years, sheltering the survivors, and he had to believe in that. Believe that eventually the winter would end, and humans would be able to leave their sheltering walls and truly live again.

He landed in a courtyard, and walked through glass-ice doors into the heart of the Fortress. Noise, the warm reassuring sound of voices, washed over Jack as he entered. He didn't waver in his path, though, didn't respond to any of those who spoke to him, welcomed him, entreated him.

This was a huge room, dominated by a globe the same size as the one North had up at the North Pole. This globe, however, Jack had made of flawless ice. And unlike the one he'd first been introduced to, a mere handful of brilliant gold lights shone from its surface.

The Fortress, at the South Pole. Santoff Claussen, at the North. The Warren, under Australia. The Tooth Palace, in southeast Asia. A bright speck in the middle of the tropical Pacific Ocean was Sandman's Island. Ireland held the Leprechaun's Underhill. Halloween Town was in central Europe. North America had two lights, Pitch's Lair, and Turkey's Village. Groundhog's Burrow gleamed from Brazil. Cupid's Castle floated around in the clouds; today, it looked like it was over what had once been Mongolia.

Eleven magical locations, holding all that was left of the human race.

Jack looked up at it for a moment, closed his eyes, then kicked himself into the air. Floating over the globe, he reached out, touched the section of Italy he'd covered today...

...and frosted it.

A disappointed murmur came from those below.

Bowing his head, Jack let himself drift back to the ground.

He didn't meet anyone's eyes as he left.

* * *

The magic of Need was a very powerful thing. It did have limits; no matter how much Jack and the others _needed_ to see Manny again, they wouldn't, not until the dust in the sky settled and was washed down by rain and snow. But smaller things, like rooms and schools and resources in their sanctuaries... those things that were needed simply came into being, if a spirit was strong enough. If they were _believed_ in enough.

Given that there probably wasn't a single person alive who wasn't sheltered in a spirit's stronghold, _belief_ had never been stronger.

So if people needed his Fort to be cool, rather than cold, it would be. For them. Jack's own rooms were icy, and it was there that he retreated now. He couldn't bear to disappoint anyone any longer. Not now. Not until he got over his own disappointment, and could be strong again.

Jack slumped into a beanbag chair, letting his staff fall to the ground as he hid his face in his hands. It was always a long shot, every day, looking for survivors. Of _any_ species. Cats and bats and snails were all precious now, and even rarer than humans.

It had been nearly a year since he'd last found anyone. Or anything.

Toothiana, Jack knew, worried about him. But he couldn't stop looking, and both of them knew it. He was the best one to be doing this. Tooth's fairies had been able to search at first, for children losing their teeth. Which led to finding the people around those children. But the fairies had smaller amounts of magic, and had gotten sick from the radiation. Tooth had eventually needed to call them all back, to let them heal in the magical haven of her Palace. North, though his sleigh had proved invaluable, wasn't as good at the searching. Neither were most of the other Legends. But Bunny, with his long ears and ability to hear movement from miles off, _was_ good. Only, the temperature had kept dropping, and fur coat or not, he couldn't handle long periods of the cold. Which left Sandy, who could only search for the sleeping, Pitch, who could only sense fear, and fear was mighty thin these days, and Jack, who could feel voids in the freeze of the world.

Like the one that had just entered his rooms.

"Bad day?" asked Jamie.

Jack laughed hollowly. "Aren't they all?"

Careless of the cold, Jamie sat down on the beanbag next to Jack's. "From my point of view, they're all good ones." Glasses with thin gold rims framed his brown eyes, and at seventy, his hair was now as white as Jack's own, but Jamie's smile was the same as the day he'd first believed in Jack. "We're all still alive, my lord Frost."

Jack conjured a handful of snow and tossed it at his friend. "_Don't_ call me that."

Jamie grinned.

"You're ruining a good depression," Jack warned him.

"I live to serve." Jamie leaned back further into the beanbag.

Jack pulled some of the chill from the room and tossed a blanket at Jamie to boot. "Any problems while I was out looking?"

"Just the usual." Jamie pulled his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "People are, sadly, people. Even in the midst of survival and living in this." His gesture took in the room, and by extension the Fortress as a whole. "There's a reason I was a teacher, not an administrator."

"Carl Sagan."

"And you." Jamie had spent years playing with various science toys, trying to prove that Jack existed. Or at least that magic did. His research was the reason they had known that magic won out over radiation. Jack had a weight on a scale, so he had mass, but no radiometer had ever gone off within three feet of him, not even the tiny amount they did around regular humans. Jamie had spent long, wistful hours dreaming of academic papers finally proving the impossible... until Jack had asked how that would affect magic itself.

Magic was the opposite of science. It was not something to be pinned down, measured, quantified, explained. It just _was_, and trying to make it into science killed it.

Jamie had majored in education instead.

"How's Cole settling in?" Jack asked.

Jamie grinned. "Phil's son is a godsend. If he has any more kids he wants out of his fur..."

The truth was, Jack had little clue how his Fort was run. He had set down one rule only for its inhabitants: Be Civil. The rest wasn't his job. Despite the fact that a disturbing number of the residents referred to him as "Lord Frost," he was a Guardian. Not a ruler. Thus, one of the first tasks the Bennett clan, already used to the presence of magic in the world, had faced post-N-Day was setting up a working infrastructure for the survivors. And they'd managed it. Jack could scarcely comprehend how, but his sanctuary had a government, and jobs, and a hospital, a marketplace, currency, a library, and schools. People were _productive_, for the most part. And now they were used to the yeti who formed a volunteer security force, which unto itself was a small miracle.

Jamie studied Jack for a minute, then threw off the blanket and stood, pacing toward an ice-block pedestal that stood along one wall. A silver hilt stuck out of it. Jamie grasped it, and pulled a transparent sword out of the ice. He looked sideways at Jack. "Sword duel," he suggested.

"Jamie..."

"I'm serious. When was the last time you _played_, Jack?"

Jack had to think about it. He eventually came up with over a month ago.

Jamie smiled. "All work and no play..." he suggested.

Jack had to crack a smile. He stood, conjuring an ice sword into his own hand.

With a feral grin, Jamie attacked.

Jack laughed, blocking.

This was a game the two of them had invented for themselves. It was their own style, evolved with no input from Toothiana or North, who were also swordmasters, but whose dual-blade styles were very different from Jack and Jamie's. They were fairly evenly matched: Jack had the advantage of flight over Jamie, but Jamie was better on tactics, and knew Jack's moves like the back of his hand. They were calling out insults on one another's techniques by the time the battle spilled into the hallway. Conscious of bystanders, the pair of them dodged around and over their audience, using them as shields and obstacles as the game moved steadily north-east along one of the outer passages. Jamie's running form was like Jack's own; he went over and around things like a man a fraction his age, until finally Jack soared in hot pursuit out into the Wonderland -

- and was hit dead-on by dozens of snowballs.

Shocked, he dropped his sword. It shattered on the ground like the icicle it was, as Jack shook snow from his eyes.

Jamie stood grinning before him, surrounded by what seemed like half the Fortress' children.

There was no doubt whatsoever in Jack's mind that Jamie had _planned_ this ambush.

"You like to live dangerously, don't you?" Jack asked all of them, and Jamie in particular. Grinning widely, he summoned a snowball to his hand. Jamie hefted a ready-made one in return.

The war was on.

Though he was too busy to note it, Jack's laughter rang through the Fort like a protective spell. The citadel pulsed in response, blue and white light growing the walls thicker, stronger. More protective of the people Jack Frost Guarded and loved.

Waiting until the day, someday, its doors would once more open.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I watch a cute, fun animated movie about holiday icons, and dream up a fanfic about nuclear winter. Is there something wrong with me? I suspect it's probably predicated on two things. One, the notion that Tooth's Palace is as big as it needs to be to house all the teeth, and thus must grow over time. I can picture the yetis having built North's place, but I cannot picture the Fairies having built Tooth's. Therefore, _magic_. And, item two, my frustration with Bunny having an egg tunnel to Antarctica and Tooth saying she collects teeth from seven continents. _There are no children in Antarctica._ Only a handful of researchers live down there. If, on the other hand, Jack ever actually set up a base like the others, it might be there just so he didn't tread on North's territory... And, yes, there was a buried Avengers-reference pun in the story. Instead of Phil Coulson, it's Cole, Phil's son. :)


	2. The Palace

**Sanctuary: The Palace**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 23rd December, 2012

The summons to Tooth's Palace came in the middle of the morning rush hour, when the halls of the Fortress were filled with children going to their lessons, adults going to their jobs, and trying to get through any of the tunnels or portals to the other sanctuaries was absolute murder, even for Jack, who could just fly over the heads of others.

Instead of even trying, he made his way to an outdoor courtyard and called the winds. It wouldn't be quite as fast as going by portal, but at this time of day it wouldn't be much slower, either.

The wind snatched him up, bearing him high into the sky with the ease of long familiarity. He danced like a snowflake with the wind, spinning and looping and dropping and soaring, playing a game of faith. It felt pure for a moment, startling a laugh out of him.

They passed the endless dingy-white plains and mountains of Antarctica, the dull gray seas of the Pacific, and in seemingly no time were over land again, the frozen ruins of China beneath them. Jack could feel the flittering hum of Toothiana's magic as he came nearer her sanctuary, though more obvious to anyone else's eye would be the landscape changing from gray-brown to flourishing jungle greens. Then, with a last wild swoop, they were at the Palace.

The wind let Jack down on the central platform of the aerie, and swirled off to play elsewhere, ruffling his hair in passing. Jack laughed, waving in thanks, attracting the attention of several of the fairies.

Baby Tooth was among them, and immediately snugged into his collar, hugging Jack's neck. "Hey, Baby Tooth," he said, stroking her crest. She was his favorite fairy, and he was her favorite Guardian. They'd been through too much together for that to ever change. He smiled at her sisters, who looked faint at the sight of his snowy teeth. Jack would never admit it, but their reaction never got old. "Where's Tooth?"

Half a dozen of the fairies pulled themselves together and darted off, chittering and chattering for him to follow. Jumping off the edge of the platform, Jack obeyed.

Tooth, it turned out, was in one of the rooms that had formed themselves along the inner wall of the hollowed-out mountain. It was a family domicile, and quite cozy. Jack wondered why she was here; Tooth was usually as little involved in the day-to-day life of her Guarded as he was.

But North was already present, and Bunny, and Sandy. "Ah, Jack!" said North. "Good of you to come. Tooth, I think, has momentous news for us - though she has been refusing to say what, until you arrived."

"Must be big," Jack said. "It's been years since anyone's done a summons. Any guesses?"

"Not a one," Bunny said. Sandy shook his head as well.

"Is that Jack?" Tooth's head popped out from behind a curtain that separated the rooms of the apartment. "Oh, good, you're all here! Come on." She disappeared back behind the curtain.

Single-file, they followed. Beyond the curtain was a bedroom. An Asian man sat on the side of the bed, with a woman lying in it. Her arms held a bundled baby who was, mercifully, sleeping at the moment.

"This is Shen," Tooth introduced, "and his wife Lien." The two half-bowed.

"Very pleased to meet you," North said.

"Likewise," and "Yeah," Bunny and Jack chimed in. Sandy waved, then swirled a question mark over his head, directed at Tooth.

She took a breath, and actually stopped fluttering. Her feet touched the ground. Jack, who had been leaning on his staff, straightened up, surprised. This must be serious. Tooth _never_ landed if she could help it. "The baby is named Pang." She turned to Lien. After a brief spate of words, Lien nodded, and turned the infant so its back was to them. The blanket fell away.

Jack felt his eyes widen. "Crikey," Bunny breathed, in time with North's "Bozhe moi!"

Human babies weren't supposed to have _wings_.

"Tooth..." Jack murmured, looking at her. She looked like she didn't know how to feel, torn between elation, fear, nausea... any number of possibilities.

North, fortunately, recovered fastest. He stepped forward, kneeling down before the couple. "She is beautiful child," he said, "and very fortunate in her parents." Tooth translated for him as North reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a small silver rattle. "Is for the little girl. Congratulations, on having such a special child."

Shen accepted the rattle with a serious nod. All the trouble didn't go out of his eyes, but his expression, and Lien's, were at least somewhat more eased.

* * *

They were all quiet until they got back to Tooth's personal nest. Then it was like none of them could keep the words in any longer. "How the bloody blazes did that happen?" Bunny demanded. "She's a human, Tooth! Not one of your fairies!"

"I know!" Toothiana's expression was pure anguish. "I don't know how - I don't even know them!"

"Will this happen to all children born under our protection?" North asked, his own face showing horror. "Have we doomed the humans into becoming elves and yeti?"

Sandy's symbols flashed. A coffin, a pumpkin, the Turkey, The Groundhog, a clover, a heart... all the other Legends whose sanctuaries housed humans.

"I didn't ask them here because I didn't know what to do," Tooth explained. "They're Legends, too, but we're Guardians, and she's only a child!"

North's hand was over his face. "What I would not give for Manny's good advice right now..."

Jack thought about the nearly two thousand people sheltered in his own Fortress. If his magic leaked into them... what, a prevalance toward white hair, blue eyes, and cold immunity? Or something worse, that he couldn't even imagine? He squeezed his eyes closed, not knowing. And knowing that there was no choice.

"Does it matter?" he quietly asked.

That stopped the others' near-panic cold.

"What do you mean, Jack?" North asked after a moment's silence.

Jack opened his eyes, looking up at his fellow Guardians. He forced himself to take a deep breath. "I mean, it doesn't matter. We have no choice."

"There's always a choice, mate -"

"No!" Jack exploded. "There isn't! What, send the humans back out into the world because our magic is leaking into them - changing them? That's a death sentence."

Silence met his words. Jack drew another breath.

"It's us, or the radiation and the winter. And that's no kind of choice, but it's the only choice these people, any of them, have. It doesn't matter if whatever happens is because of us, or because of that old exposure, or some combination. _We can't stop it._" He looked down at his feet. "We can't freeze them into never changing."

Another moment, then a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "You are right, of course, Jack. That will not make it any easier to bear, but... we are the only choice."

"Pretty heavy wisdom from a nipper," Bunny said, but his tone was kind.

Sandy gave the image of an open book. He, at least, knew Jack had spent plenty of years helping generations of Bennetts with their homework, and probably knew more about the interaction of magic and science than any other immortal.

"So what do we do?" Tooth asked quietly.

"I think we tell the other Legends first," North said, stroking his beard. "And then all of us tell the people we trust."

Looking thoughtful, Sandy nodded.

"Let them tell others," Bunny mused. "Spread it slow and quiet. Keep from making a panic. Not a bad plan."

"So mote it be," said North.

* * *

Jack stayed at the Palace for what felt like a long time. Longer than the other Guardians, at any rate. They'd drawn straws for who got to tell which of the other Legends. Jack got both the Groundhog, since Bunny couldn't stand him, and Pitch, since none of the other Guardians really liked talking to the Nightmare King. Not that Jack did, either, but he thought he and Pitch understood one another's limit lines a little bit better than the others.

He sat now on the edge of Tooth's nest platform, letting his legs dangle in the air.

Her aerie really was built for fliers. He had no problem here, and neither did Sandy, but North and Bunny sometimes had trouble ascending from platform to platform. No wonder Tooth's magic had made her people's homes in the inside and outside of her mountain. Stairs might be involved, but at least there weren't hundreds of feet of open air below their feet without railings.

Bird-humans would get around here much more easily.

Tooth perched next to him. "Quarter for your thoughts?" she offered, rolling said coin over her knuckles.

"Just wondering if I did wrong," Jack said honestly. "Talking you all into rescue efforts. Maybe it wasn't our right to decide this for humans."

"Oh, Jack." She was silent, gazing for a moment into the brilliant, brilliant sunset that was part of the nuclear haze. "I don't think a single human in any of our sanctuaries would do anything but thank you for talking us into this."

His head dropped. "But... they're changing. Or going to change. And maybe that's not the way it was supposed to be. Maybe this was supposed to be an end, them and us just fading away, to be replaced by... something else, once the winter ended."

"Maybe." Tooth's voice was frank. "Or maybe _this_ is what was supposed to happen, them and us growing closer together. We can't know, Jack, and second-guessing will only kill us, in the end." Her warm fingers touched under his chin, gently guiding him to look in her eyes. "Do you think Jamie blames you for saving his family? For what your magic's been doing to him?"

"What my magic's...?" Jack asked blankly.

Tooth smiled. "He's seventy, Jack. I know time runs differently for us, but... he should not be chasing you through the Fort with a sword the way he does. He's your best friend, almost your brother, and your magic is at the very least preserving him, maybe even turning back time a little. Is that such a bad thing?"

Jack swallowed. "I didn't... I didn't know." He looked away again, at the brilliant fuchsia and lavender sky. "I didn't ask, I didn't..."

"Jack." Her voice was firm, making him look back at her. "I don't mean any offense, but... in a lot of ways, Jamie's smarter than you. I'd be shocked if he hadn't figured it out long ago. Ask him. I don't think he'll be angry."

"But..."

"Jack. If says 'thank you,' and I think he will, I want you to just accept it. Okay?"

He wanted to protest, but the words just wouldn't come. Finally, he gave in and said, "Okay."

Tooth brushed a kiss to his cheek and left. But Jack stayed on the ledge a while longer, watching the sun slip below the horizon, thinking.

When it had finally vanished, he stood, closed his eyes, and leapt off the platform, calling for the wind to take him back home.

Before he went to talk to Groundhog and Pitch... he needed to talk with Jamie.

* * *

**Author's Note:** AvidAkiraReader asked if this was going to be a plot-driven story or a series of drabbles. It's kind of neither: there is an overreaching plot thread (how the world got into this state, and what happens as a result of what was realized in this chapter), but it's not got an A, therefore B, followed by C, plot structure. Each chapter will be centered on a particular sanctuary. The story will skip around in time. There will be OCs (Leprechaun, Groundhog, etc), though I hope I can keep them from being Mary Sues. Even so, I hope you all find the Sanctuary world intriguing enough to keep reading. Happy Christmas Eve, everyone!


	3. The Lair

Jack landed in what had once been Burgess, Pennsylvania. His home for over three centuries. Now it was an icy waste, worse than any winter he'd ever brought.

Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. Nothing _lived_.

Jack hated it. And he hated the one that had caused it.

But he was a Guardian, and a Great Spirit, and he had responsibilities. He would restrain himself from pouring out all the pain he felt onto Pitch's deserving head.

It wouldn't do any good anyway.

His feet told him that he was above his pond. He wouldn't have been able to tell by looking around. The snow buried all the dead trees. But Jack knew. He always knew.

The old cemetery was to the south, and he could always find that too. But he hadn't come to pay his respects today. Instead, he turned west, walking step by step until he came to the old, cold, dark tunnel that bared Pitch's Lair to the surface world.

Taking a deep breath, Jack centered himself, and stepped forward, falling in.

**Sanctuary: The Lair**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 25th December, 2012

Ten Years Previous

"We know whose doing this is!" North had declared. He slammed his hands down on the long meeting table at the North Pole. "Pitch's!"

"Got no proof, mate," Bunnymund told him.

"Who else would do this thing?" Eros asked, his dark eyes fierce. "Who else would make this nightmare? None of us are this reckless!"

"I'm agreeing with you," Bunny replied, "but still, there's a lack of evidence."

Turkey lifted his head from his feathery hands. Toothiana hovered behind him, hands on the shoulders of her fellow avian. The world being destroyed on his holiday had been hard on the Thanksgiving-bringer; Thomas looked absolutely _terrible_. "We could ask him," he suggested.

The Groundhog, Phil, looked pale at the suggestion, and on the verge of bolting.

"Not you, ya pansy!" Bunny snapped at him.

"I'll go," Jack said quietly.

All eyes turned to him. "Jack!" said North.

Jack looked up, at the other Legends. "I've been to his Lair before. I know where it is."

"Not alone, Jack!" Tooth protested.

"A'course he ain't going alone!" Patrick stood, patting his arsenal of clover shuriken.

"I'll go too." Jack Skellington unlimbered from where he sat. His expression was serious. "Pitch has no power over me."

* * *

The Lair had looked much as it had the last time Jack had visited. The fairy cages still hung empty from the ceiling, the architecture still defied logic, and the shadows still made him nervous. The main difference was that the slate floor was clear, no mountains of tooth containers burying the surface.

Patrick whistled, looking around. His flame-red hair was practically a torch in the dim light. "Well, not a place I'd care to live, myself."

Jack Skellington, in contrast, was downright admiring. "Very classy and aesthetic," was his verdict.

"Each to their own."

"Can we just get on with this?" Jack asked.

Patrick made a half-bow, arm sweeping forward as if to say, _be my guest_.

Jack stepped forward, to the edge of the walkway, and yelled out, "Pitch!"

The echoes of his voice came back to him.

"Not even any bats," Skellington murmured disapprovingly.

"He's here somewhere," Jack said lowly. "I know it." He took to the air, soaring through the twisting shadows. With a gesture, Patrick cast a rainbow path and rode down it, balanced like a skateboarder on rails. Skellington followed him.

Jack's eyes caught on Pitch's globe. It was... nearly black, only a few glimmering lights left. He alit by the hollow structure. "Mort's been busy," he murmured.

"This wasn't my plan."

Jack whirled, staff at the fore. "Pitch."

The Nightmare King stood before him, but did not look at him. His eyes were fast on the dying globe. He looked... shocked. Traumatized. "This wasn't what I wanted."

Patrick and Skellington landed behind Pitch, one with gold coins at the ready, the other handling a bone-chain. Neither looked happy with Pitch Black. "So this _was_ your mischief," Patrick declared.

"What did you do?" Jack didn't even try to keep the anger from his voice.

He got no answer.

Growling, he stalked forward, grabbing Pitch's collar and yanking the Nightmare King down to his height, blue eyes glaring into gray-gold. "What. Did. You. Do?" Jack Frost repeated himself.

Pitch was still looking past him, at the globe. "I spoke to the adults."

"What are you talking about?" Skellington asked. "They don't see us. They can't hear us."

"No." Pitch's voice, usually as smooth as sandwashed silk, was hollow. "But sometimes, if we whisper in their ears... I knew the Guardians would only be watching the children. I never meant for this to happen," he said brokenly. His eyes met Jack's. "I can't fix this."

Disgusted and furious, Jack let him go. "None of us can."

"Not even Phil," Patrick agreed.

Pitch looked at the Leprechaun. "The Groundhog?"

Grass-green eyes glared at him. "He can only turn back time for small things. Not the entire world."

"None of us can fix this," Jack Skellington said, nodding. The dark holes where his eyes should have been bored into Pitch. "All we can do is ameliorate the damage."

"Ameliorate...?"

The tall, bony Legend stalked forward, jabbing a skeletal finger at Pitch's chest. "And you caused this, so you're going to help. Or gods help us, the Reaper will come for _you_ next."

The Nightmare King was still, trembling. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head. He took a breath, his hands fisted. "What must I do?"

Jack looked at the other two, then nodded. They needed help, no matter where it came from, and Pitch had to pay for his mistakes. "Get ready for roommates," he said.

* * *

Now

The drop into the Lair was longer than ever, but it was no longer as spooky. It was still cavernous, still reminded Jack of Venice as done by M.C. Escher, but now the Lair was filled with the sound of voices.

He landed on a ledge overlooking the central chamber. People, clad mostly in monochrome shades of black, gray, and white, went about their daily business as though living in the home of Fear was no big deal. Children, laughing and usually clad in brighter shades, ran around playing tag, or followed their parents closely.

"Not bad," Jack murmured, impressed by how _normal_ everything seemed.

"I suppose they do have a certain charm in their naievete," Pitch said, separating himself from the shadows behind Jack. "Frost," he greeted.

"Pitch," Jack replied, straightening but not bothering to turn as the Nightmare King stepped forward to stand beside him.

"What brings you to my humble abode?" A gray hand waved at the crowd milling below. "Come to check that I am taking good care of my guests?"

"Not quite." Jack's eyes slid to the side to meet Pitch's gaze.

"What, then?"

_Civil,_ Jack reminded himself. _Civil._ Pitch was in this as deep as the rest of them, and holding up his end of the bargain. "Do you have someplace private where we can talk?"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Pitch Black was stumbling backward in shock. "Wings?" he asked stupidly.

Jack nodded. "We think it's maybe a combination of exposure to the radiation, and exposure to our magic."

"But... but... they're _human_!"

"So were most of us, once."

The Nightmare King was not recovering well. His normally gray face was almost ashen.

Jack knew he should not be enjoying this. It was serious news, with serious implications. But part of him hated Pitch, would always hate Pitch, wanted nothing more than to twist the knife...

He didn't. He was better than that.

"We agreed that everyone should know," he said instead. "The rest of us are planning to tell those we're closest to first, let it spread out quietly... or at least let the humans decide how to break the news to each other."

"And by 'the rest of us,' you mean the Guardians," Pitch snarled.

Jack sat on his temper. HARD. "It's regarding children," he said, refusing to rise to Pitch's spite. "As far as I recall, you'd given up interest in children in favor of the adults."

Okay, twisting the knife just a little.

"You're never going to let that go."

Jack looked at the door that led to the rest of the Lair. "I haven't told _them_," he said quietly, gesturing with his staff toward all the humans who dwelled in this sanctuary. And by extension, meaning all the humans living in any of the sanctuaries. "None of us have. We have that much honor, Pitch. What you did is known to our kind only. But no." His eyes were hard. "You're not forgiven. You're old. You've watched them for millennia. You should have known what you would cause."

"So say your Guardians."

"So says all the Council."

Pitch's face fell at that.

"Even Phil, I suppose," he sneered, trying to redeem his weakness.

Jack nodded. "Even the Groundhog. Ten years isn't enough to get out of your probation, Pitch."

"What will be?" the Nightmare King demanded, waving an arm wildly. "A thousand?!"

"You get another chance," Jack said, sticking to the sentence he and all the other Great Spirits had agreed on, "when the humans are free to live outside our walls. Not before then."

And none of them knew how long that would be. Pitch's face fell into despair again.

"You wanted to make the world a nightmare?" Jack asked quietly. "Fine. You did it. Congratulations, Pitch. The thing is, you have to live through it, just like the rest of us."

Pitch had no response to that. Jack rose into the air, blew the dark room's door open with a wave of his staff. "I'll give your regards to the others," he said. _Be the better man, Jack,_ something in his head urged him. "...If you ever want to talk, you know how to get in touch."

Leaving the broken King behind, Jack soared upward, seeking the open air and polluted skies that Pitch had made.


	4. The Workshop

"My sisters and I have walked the length and breadth of Hokkaido, Snow Lord," the yuki-onna said. Strands of her long, inky hair floated in the winter wind. "Nothing lives here, save for spirits. And even we are fewer than we once were."

Jack couldn't quite keep the disappointment from his face. "Thank you, winter sister," he said, remembering his manners. The snow women might like him, but even Jack would earn their rage if he was less than polite. And he needed to be on their good side; these days, the yuki-onna understood how precious life was, and would _probably_ alert him first, rather than simply kill any mortal who met them.

He couldn't afford to squander that goodwill.

"They fare well, your humans?" the snow-woman asked. Something in her face spoke of an unusual longing.

Jack nodded slowly. "They do."

She turned to look at the barren wastes around them. "I had not realized how empty the world would seem, without life in it."

"I know." Jack loved winter, too, but this was too much cold and emptiness. "Some day," he promised her, "it will be safe for them to return."

"Some day," she echoed. "But they will not be the same as those who left."

Jack blinked. That had sounded almost like mourning. "Perhaps they will be wiser," he suggested.

She nodded. "Fair winds, Snow Lord," the lesser winter spirit wished him, and turned to go.

"And following snows," he told her in reply, watching for a moment. Then he let the wind catch him, and went south, to continue his search on the island of Honshu.

**Sanctuary: The Workshop**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 30th December, 2012

Ten Years Previous

The dining table was fully extended, all the leaves in. Even with their youngest staying in Washington D.C., dining this year with her fiancé's family, the Bennett household would be full. Particularly with Jamie's sister Sophie, her husband, their three children, and the accompanying two spouses and three grandchildren, all in attendance. In total, in fact, there would be sixteen adults and eleven children, nine of whom would be sitting at the second table that had been set up in the dining room. The two babies, Alice and Marty, were napping in a shared crib tucked up in their grandparents' bedroom, a baby monitor by them to alert their parents should either infant wake crying.

Given that the house hadn't magically expanded in the last several decades, it made for a crowded, cozy, noisy gathering, even when the children and half the adults were out front and out back, building snowmen and forts.

By the time Mary Bennett seated her mother-in-law at the table, and went to call everyone in, the house smelled like home and family and the beginning of the holiday season.

Jamie was first in, and shed his coat and scarf at the door, stamping snow from his feet as he ducked to kiss her. "Ready for me to carve?" His cheeks were pink and his eyes sparkling from the chill and fun of the outdoors.

"In the kitchen," Mary replied, and turned her attention to corralling the rest of her family to the table.

Once everyone was seated, Jamie said grace over the food. "...And please, dear Lord," he added, "let the men and women in power step back from their anger and be guided by your love and wisdom, on this Thanksgiving day. Amen."

"Amen," everyone echoed, even the table of troublemakers in the living room.

As everyone sat down and Jamie reached for the first plate, to put some slices of turkey on it, the winter wind slammed the front door open.

* * *

Jamie stared at the white-haired teenager who had barged in the front door. Normally he'd be annoyed at Jack, or invite him to partake in the meal, but the expression on Jack's face -

"Jack?" he asked.

Ice blue eyes met his, and James Bennett had the thought that he had never, ever, seen Jack Frost look so scared, so close to tears.

"Washington's gone," Jack said hoarsely.

"What?!" half a dozen voices clamored over one another.

Jamie couldn't breathe. Ellen... his daughter was in Washington.

"I was there," Jack said, and his voice was shaking. "There was a flash of light, and... it's gone. Just gone."

"Ellen?" Jamie croaked, ignoring the half-dozen people in the room who couldn't see Jack, who had never kept believing the way he'd taught all his children to.

Jack's eyes were wide. He shook his head. "I - I don't know."

"Turn on the television!" Thomas called into the living room. "We need to know what's going on."

As various of the Bennetts and Pierces stood up, streaming toward the noise of the awakening television, Jack just stood in his spot, clinging to his staff like it was his last hope, never looking away from Jamie. "I think," he said. Paused, wet his lips with his tongue. "Sandy and I knew it was bad. I don't think either of us thought -"

"The war has come, hasn't it?"

"Jamie, what are you talking about?" his mother asked.

"James?" his wife asked.

Jamie bowed his head. Felt a ghost of motion, opened his eyes to see Jack right in front of him. "How much do you trust the world's governments?" Jack asked him. His voice was soft, but his question deadly serious.

Jamie wanted to answer that he did... but he couldn't lie. Not when the news announcer on the television was saying that they'd lost contact with their correspondents in Washington. Not when it was his family's lives on the line. Mutely, Jamie shook his head.

Jack reached into his hoodie pocket, withdrew a snow globe that swirled with all the colors of hope, of wonder, of dreams and memory and fun.

Sophie, having returned to the dining room, gaped. "Is that -"

"Will you trust me?" Jack asked softly, looking between the two siblings.

Sophie's mouth shut. She nodded.

"With my life," Jamie replied. "With my children's lives."

"Then we're leaving. All of us."

Jamie nodded, stood tall. "Everyone!" he yelled into the other room. "We're going. Get ready. Jackie, Arthur, get the babies. Thomas, grab the dogs."

His children rushed to obey. "James, what is going on?" Mary asked him.

Jamie ignored her in favor of helping his mother up. "Come on, mother, we're going on a little trip."

"But dinner -"

"It'll just take a minute," he promised. "Here, let me get your walker. Mary, can you make sure the doors and windows are locked and that the stove's off?"

"James, what in the world -"

"Just trust me," he cut her off. "If I'm wrong, we'll be right back. If not..."

Whatever she saw in his face forestalled her comments. After a second, she nodded and stepped briskly into the kitchen.

"You're really good at that," Jack murmured. Jamie gave his friend a wan grin, and pushed the worry for his youngest daughter away. The only thing he could do right now was make sure the rest of his family was safe.

* * *

It was only a moment until the entire clan was gathered in the living room. Jack hefted the snow globe before him, shook it, and said clearly to it, "I say, North Pole." He threw the globe at the wall, where it smashed, making a glowing multi-colored portal. He turned to the Bennetts and Pierces, most of whom had never seen this before. "Go," he told them, gesturing at the portal.

They didn't need to be told twice, streaming past him, the protesting unbeliever inlaws being dragged by their believing spouses and children. Thomas, Jamie's oldest, had the Bennetts' two greyhounds on leashes; they practically lunged into the portal. Mary, staring and unbelieving, went in, followed by her mother-in-law, then Jamie. Jack looked around the family home one last time, then followed as well. The portal sealed behind them.

He was used to the disorienting mode of travel, and was able to fly out of it, over the pile of Bennetts and Pierces and two Kays on the floor.

Jack whirled, mid-air, to see North, flanked by two yetis (Phil and Oliver), staring at the pile of humans. Behind North was the globe, turning slowly on its axis.

Jack's stomach dropped as Beijing blinked out.

"Jack, what is meaning of this?"

Jack ignored the question, landing at the railing, still staring up at the globe.

Moscow, gone.

"Jack?"

"Call the others," he grated lowly. He turned to North, who looked flabbergasted at the order. "Do it!"

"Jack, what is meaning of bringing them here?" North waved a hand at the humans, who were righting themselves, staring about in wonder and a little fear.

"Jack?" Jamie's softer voice drew his attention. Jamie, too, was staring at the globe. He swallowed. "Is that what I think it is?"

Jack couldn't say yes. He just couldn't. But he nodded.

"Oh God."

"Jamie?"

Jamie turned to answer North's question. "It's... it's nuclear war, North. World War Three. Humans... we're finally killing ourselves off for good."

North's eyebrows rose until they couldn't go any higher. "This is true?" he asked Jack. "This is why you brought them here?" He gestured again at Jamie's family.

Miserable, throat tight, Jack nodded again.

North was stock-still for an instant. Then, "Phil! Take care of our guests!" he ordered. He stepped forward, turned the summons handle to a position Jack had never seen used before, and slammed it down.

"That's... not the Guardians summon," Jack said uncertainly, as golden-white light pulsed from the dome roof.

"No," North said. "It is very old, and has only been used once. This setting," he said, hand patting the lever, "will summon all the Great Spirits." He turned to the sea of elves surrounding the control panel. "You lot! Prepare rooms for Bennett family, and ready meeting hall for guests."

* * *

"J-James," Mary said. Jamie turned to find his wife behind him, looking scared. She was staring straight at North. "Is that...?

Jamie's eyes flickered between the two. "Nicholas St. North, better known as Santa Claus," he replied. "North, this is my wife, Mary."

North bowed just a little. "Formerly Mary Henderson, yes?" He smiled, a small, sad thing. "Was always on nice list. Unlike some people I can mention." His blue eyes slid sideways to Jack.

"And..." Mary said. "And this is?"

She was looking right at Jack, whose mouth dropped open.

Jamie was shocked too. He wasn't surprised Mary had believed in Santa Claus at one point. Most everyone had. But she was seeing Jack too? "Jack Frost," he said quietly. "My oldest friend."

"Oh." Mary swallowed, still staring. "Nice to meet you..."

Jack smiled, but it was a wan thing. "Nice to meet you too, Mary. I just wish this had happened under better circumstances."

Her eyes drifted to the globe as the Americas came into view. "There's no Washington," she said simply. "Ellen was in Washington."

"I am sorry," North said. "Ellen, too, was good child."

"Come on," Jamie said, putting his arm around her. He didn't want to think about their daughter. About his baby girl being gone. If he did, he didn't think he would ever stop crying. "Phil will show us where to go. We've got to think about the kids we... still have..."

"Jamie." Jack was at his elbow. He looked apologetic. "I can give you some time, but... I think we're going to need you in the council room."

"Me? But I'm not..."

"Most of us," Jack said with a nod at North, "don't live in the human world. Sandy and I get the best view, but even we're outsiders." He took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself up. "A lot of spirits are insular, and don't think human affairs matter at all. We're going to need your testimony to help convince them to do anything."

Jamie didn't know what Jack had planned, but he trusted Jack implicitly. If he said Jamie's presence was needed, Jamie would come. "You'll come find me?"

Jack nodded. He turned to Phil. "They were just sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner," he said. "Raiding the kitchens might help settle everyone's nerves a little."

The yeti nodded.

"How can you think of food at a time like this?" Thomas demanded of Jack.

"No, he's right," Jamie told his son. He looked up at the globe, expression grim. "We're going to need all our strength today."


	5. The Workshop, pt 2

**Sanctuary: The Workshop, pt. 2**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 30th December, 2012

Ten Years Previous

The summons had rung like a bell through the Warren, waking Bunnymund, who had been dreaming about the _prettiest_ egg patterns... which were now completely gone from his mind.

Grumbling about North's perpetually terrible sense of timing, it took Bunnymund a moment to realize this wasn't the usual summons from the Pole. When he did, he froze. He offered up a prayer that North had maybe just (please, please) accidentally put the summons lever in the wrong position.

Then he opened a tunnel and ran for the Pole as fast as he knew how.

When he got there, some of the others were already at North's traditional gathering area: North, Jack, Phil the Groundhog (Bunny made sure to stay on the other side of the gathering from him), and Eros. They were all watching the globe.

Accepting a goblet of mulled cider from an elf, Bunny glanced up at the globe.

The goblet fell from his hand, splashing hot liquid all over the floor and his feet. "What - what is this?" he asked, shocked beyond all belief.

Jack, from his position perched on the railing, glanced at him. "Nuclear war," the winter sprite said softly.

The second word Bunny knew, though he didn't understand how any war could be doing... that. "New-clear?" he asked. "What in the bloody blazes is that, mate?"

"Jack will explain as soon as rest of Council arrives," North intoned. "Ah, Jack Skellington," he greeted the All Hallow's Eve spirit as he joined them. "I hope your journey went well?" A brief smile flashed across North's face. "At least I am not returning your favor and kidnapping you in sack!"

"Wait," Jack Frost interjected, "_he's_ who you got that idea from?"

There was little room on the round, skeletal face for pleasantries. "What's happening, Sandy Claws?"

Joviality fled North's expression. "I fear, my friend, the end of the world."

* * *

The grand Council chamber had a long table set with thirteen chairs. Jamie followed Jack into the room quietly. "Do I need a run-down?" he murmured.

"You know the Guardians," Jack replied, equally sotto voce. "The redheaded guy in green over there is Patrick, the Leprechaun. He's in charge of St. Patrick's Day, does stuff with rainbows and clovers and gold coins. _Don't_ go drinking with him and North."

"I sense a story."

"I'll tell you about it when you tell me about your fraternity hazing," replied Jack, who had never yet gotten that story out of Jamie.

"Never in a thousand years am I going to give you that ammunition. Who's the man next to him?" Jamie indicated a tall, athletic man with curly dark hair and golden skin - one of the other human-looking Legends.

"Eros."

Jamie stopped, blinking. "_Cupid_?" he hissed.

Jack grinned. "He hates that name. His wife loves tormenting him with the diapered baby images."

"Oh, God, Greek myths." Jamie held his head in his hands and took a breath. After a moment, he straightened again. "Okay, and the others?"

"Skeleton guy is Jack Skellington, he's in charge of Halloween. Little bit creepy, but mostly okay. He and North apparently go way back. The furry who isn't Bunny is Phil, the Groundhog. Bunny really doesn't like him, but I've never been able to get the backstory of why. North says he'll tell me when I can hold my liquor."

Jamie snickered. "So, never."

"Shut up," Jack said with no real heat. "The African lady with antlers in her hair is Gaia, Mother Nature, and... she isn't looking too good." Concern reared up. If Mother Nature wasn't looking well... "The guy she's standing with, the one whose hair is starting to go gray, is Peter. Father Time. And the other guy with them, the one with the feathers, is Thomas. He's in charge of Thanksgiving."

"He doesn't look good either," Jamie murmured.

"Yeah." Jack was grim.

Jamie counted. "That's twelve. Who's missing?"

If possible, Jack felt his expression get even darker. "Mort. Death. She's kind of busy right now."

* * *

The high back of Jack's chair was engraved with a snowflake. Jamie looked around; North's was marked with a wrapped gift, Bunny's with an egg, and Tooth's with, of course, a tooth. Sandman's, Jamie figured out after a moment, was a swirl of sand particles. The heart, clover, coffin, and pumpkin all seemed obvious enough. He blinked, however, at the carved turkey that looked like nothing so much as a child's elementary school hand-tracing project.

North... had a strange sense of humor, Jamie decided.

The chair with a tree had to belong to Mother Nature, and the one with a hourglass to Father Time. Why there was a round clock face on the last seat, though, Jamie wasn't sure. By process of elimination, it had to belong to the Groundhog; did he also have some kind of time powers?

"Stand behind my chair until you're called," Jack said quietly as everyone began drifting toward, or, in the cases of Mother Nature and the Thanksgiving Turkey, being helped into, their seats. "Humans don't get a voice in the Council; we're probably going to be fighting uphill here."

"What's the goal?" Jamie murmured back.

Jack's mouth thinned. "To figure out what we can save."

* * *

"The chair recognizes the Winter Shepherd," Father Time's smooth, steady voice said. "Jack Frost, why have you called this meeting of the Council?"

Jack looked around the circle of the people who were theoretically his peers. Part of him still found several of them intimidating. He refused to let that show. "You've all seen the lights going out on North's globe. And Mother Nature, Turkey... you're both obviously feeling the effects of what is happening today."

"An' what _is_ happening?" The Leprechaun leaned forward.

Jack frowned. "Nuclear war."

"What is this 'new-clear' war?" asked Eros.

Bunnymund nodded. "That's what I want to know, too, mate."

Jack took a deep breath, and took a risk. Would they listen to a human? "I cede my authority to an expert. Jamie Bennett."

A murmur of voices fluttered up as Jack stood, pushing his chair back and standing. Jamie, God bless him, didn't need any prompting to step up by Jack's side.

"Nuclear war," Jamie's voice, a teacher's voice, cut across the low noise, "is what happens when humans wage war on one another using nuclear weapons."

There were blank looks almost all the way around the table. "Use smaller words," Jack murmured. "Older concepts."

Jamie blinked. "Nuclear weapons," he tried again, "are like... bombs. Very big, very destructive bombs, that not only destroy cities, but poison them as well. Poison the land, the water, the trees... everything living. And the poison, the radiation, persists for years. Centuries, even. There are sites of nuclear disaster like Chernobyl where it still isn't safe, seventy-five years later. And, as a following concern... the strikes kick dust into the air. A lot of dust. It's believed..." Jamie stopped, steadied himself, went on. "In 1815, the explosion of Mount Tambora capped a series of other major volcanic eruptions, similarly expelling dust into the atmosphere." He looked down at the table. "I believe most of you probably remember 1816. Humans call it the year without a summer. A nuclear war on this scale could have similar, or even worse, environmental effects."

"Still, this human war concerns us how?" asked Father Time.

Jamie drew a long breath. "Meaning no offense, sir... but from what I understand of your role, everything belongs to you, correct? Time eventually reaps everything. All humans included." This earned Jamie a nod. "But I don't believe I'm wrong to say that all of you," he said, his gaze sweeping the table, "also belong to my kind."

A cacophony of protests burst out, which was only dispelled by Time banging loudly and repeatedly on the table with his gavel. His black eyes were dangerous as they looked at Jamie. Who, thank God, did not flinch. "Explain yourself," Time said, "but do not try my patience."

"What are you," Jamie asked quietly, "without humans? Not just the Guardians; all of you. If no one survives to give thanks, or to fall in love... what happens to Turkey, to Cupid? If there is no green of Saint Patrick's Day? No one to scare on Halloween? If there is no one left to reap, what of Death?" His gaze lingered on the empty chair. Then Jamie looked straight into Time's eyes. "What becomes of time, sir, if there is no one left to mark it?"

Time's hand clenched on his gavel, then relaxed again, as if forced to by its owner. "What do you propose, human?"

Jamie smiled, but it was a thin thing. "I cede my authority back to Jack Frost. He's the one with a plan."

"Thanks so much," Jack murmured, unsure if he was being sarcastic or serious.

"Jack?" Toothiana asked.

Jack drew a breath. "I propose that we rescue as many humans as possible. Bring them into our strongholds. Shelter them, and keep them alive until it's safe for them to go back to the rest of the world."

"Frostbite." Bunny's voice was very soft. "They can't see us. Can't touch us. How're you proposing to save them?"

Jack's smile was wan. "We can touch the unconscious ones. And Sandy's very good at knocking them out."

The Sandman smiled, and made a small bow.

"And these new-clear and ray-dee-ation things?" Phil the Groundhog leaned forward. "What's the point of trying to save humans? If the stuff's that deadly, it'll just kill us too."

"Actually." Jamie pushed his glasses up, "it won't."

"Explain," Jack Skellington bid Jamie, completely ignoring Time's rules of order.

Jamie smiled. "I've known Jack for fifty years. He's let me wave various science gadgets at him. And one thing we found out is, _magic beats radiation_." He waved his hand at the room. "Every inch of Santoff Claussen, and all of your domains too, I'll bet, is soaked in your magic. It's safety and shelter. Sanctuary."

North stroked his beard. "This could work," he said, speaking for the first time. "Here, and Warren, and Tooth Palace... Sandy's Island..."

"How many would we have to rescue?" the Leprechaun asked. "My Underhill's a bit cozy, but if Bunny or Phil's willing to help me, I suppose it could be expanded."

"Ideally..." Jamie paused, then continued, "ten thousand plus."

"Ten thousand?!" Jack demanded, staring.

Jamie shrugged helplessly. "Too few, and you get a genetic bottleneck, which introduces limited variability, which means you get one good disease and the whole population goes down." Eros was nodding, so he at least understood the concept.

"It's not just humans we'll need to be saving, either," the Groundhog said. "There's entire vulnerable ecosystems out there. Plants, animals..."

Jack faltered. The sudden realization of the scope was staggering. He looked up at Jamie. "We can't do this," he whispered. "It's too big."

"Jack." Jamie's hand was on his shoulder. "One step at a time. You've already saved my family. Maybe you can't save the world. But whatever you can... it will be enough. We will _make_ it be enough."

"Jack." His attention switched over to North. "If this is to happen... you must make your stronghold part of it."

Jamie's hand tightened. "You have a stronghold?" Jamie asked. There was a definite undercurrent in his voice of _and you never **told** me about it?_

Jack shrugged. "Not really a stronghold. It's just a playground, down in Antarctica."

"Nonetheless," said North. "You must make it more. Now."

Jack bit his lip, then nodded.

"Are we agreed, then?" Tooth looked around the table. "We rescue humans, and bring them into our shelters?"

The Leprechaun pointed at the empty chair. "Not Mort's. 'Tisn't possible."

"And not ours," said Mother Nature quietly, speaking for the first time. Her hand was on on Father Time's. "If what Mister Bennett has said is true... it will soon no longer be viable."

"What I'd like to know, though," the Leprechaun said, "is how something like this happened at all."

North's face darkened, but he stopped. Looked at Jamie. "Jamie, thank you for testimony. Rest of Council meeting, I think, is not for humans to hear."

Jack could see the protest form on Jamie's face. He stopped it, a hand on his friend's arm. "Trust me," he said. "You really don't want to be here for the rest."

"Jack, that's not-"

"Trust me," Jack repeated firmly. "There are things you don't want to see, Jamie." And given what Jack could read on his fellow Legends' faces... he suspected there were things they did not want humans to know. Not even Jamie. The thought made him nauseous, that one of his own kind might be responsible for this.

Jamie studied his face for a minute, then acquiesced. "Come find me when you're done."

Jack nodded and saw Jamie to the door, closed it firmly behind him. Turned back to the Council. Retook his seat.

"Well handled," Jack Skellington complimented him.

"Thanks."

Then North burst out with the theory Jack had been dreading, and he closed his eyes, not wanting it to be true, but at the same time unable to deny that it _felt_ right.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The above scene continues directly into the flashback scene in chapter 3. And I can't remember who in this fandom first came up with the term "winter shepherd" for Jack, but it was brilliant and apt and I hope they don't mind that I've borrowed it here.

Unfortunately this is the last fanfic bit I'm going to be putting out for a bit, since I've promised myself this January to work on my second novel, Field of Stars. So... my fanfiction is now semi-officially on hold until February 1st. Any bits that may come down the pipeline will be things that were already 90% finished and just needed tweaking, or stuff I write during my lunch break at work. Sorry for the hiatus, but I really do want to have my own original work published at some point. See you in February!


	6. The Warren, pt 1

Aster took the long way back to the Warren. He needed the time and solitude to get his thoughts together.

He needed, much as he hated to term it so, a battle plan.

Eros and Psyche were great people, a little too besotted with one another, maybe, but he knew he was leaving the situation at their floating cloud-castle in firm, competent hands. Alone of the Great Spirits, they _did_ rule over their sanctuary, and regarded their people as their subjects and charges.

Crazy thing was, most of the inhabitants seemed to agree. Bunny didn't hold with that for his own territory, nor did any of the other Guardians. Jack in particular was downright allergic to any hint of superiority or power over humans. Which usually led Aster to the thought, "Thank the Moon for Jamie."

But that was getting him nowhere with his own problems.

How to calmly, easily, and above all without panic, inform the three thousand-plus inhabitants of the Warren about a baby with wings...?

The easy way, he supposed, was to call a Council meeting. Telling the elected representatives of each residential tunnel would cut his disclosure burden down to mere thirty-three individuals. And then they could each spread the news to the hundred or so people that made up their neighborhoods.

And most of the representatives, he thought, were sensible people.

Most of them.

Grimacing, Aster wished he could've let himself be a little more of a coward and taken up North's offer of a drink and a retreat at the Pole.

Because he was really, really not looking forward to this.

**Sanctuary: The Warren, pt. 1**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 28th March, 2013

The fields were lush and green, ripe with warmth and growth and life. Jack Frost and Mort alike were forbidden to walk in them unless they kept the tightest possible reign on their powers. Though, really, Sophie thought, struggling with uprooting the remains of a spent cucumber vine, asking either of them to help in clearing the fields would be brilliant. They could wilt the tuckered-out plants, making them so much easier to pull...

"Let me help with that." Fur-covered hands that needed no gloves grabbed the vine above and below hers. Together, she and Bunnymund heaved the plant out of the ground.

Sophie laughed. "Look at those roots."

"Mm-hmm." The pooka nodded, pleased. "Good soil you've built up here."

"Good soil _we've_ built up, you mean." Sophie beamed at him.

"As you say." Bunnymund straightened, looking across the fields where so many others tended the plants. "Don't think I'll ever get used to seeing life again in this old place."

"It had life before." Sophie stripped off her gloves and tucked them into her belt. The Warren was so very different now from her earliest memories of it. Human residents had worn away a good part of its lost world crumbling ruins charm. Yet it was also somehow even more itself than ever. There were still egg fields, and rivers of dye, and secret hidden passages leading to new discoveries. But now there were fields of carrots and peas and tomatoes and all the things that grew best in spring and summer, flocks of chickens and milling livestock of various breeds. And if the ambient magic helped them flourish, even more so it was the rich soil and the care of the gardeners and groundskeepers that kept them all fed and exported food to other sanctuaries.

If you wanted roast goose with all the trimmings, you went to the North Pole. If you wanted pumpkin pie and cornbread, you went to Turkey's Village. But if you wanted a sun-ripe tomato, juicy and redolent of green growing fields... you came to the Warren. Or Groundhog's Burrow, but Bunnymund's rivalry with the Groundhog had never subsided, so no one who wanted to keep their hearing mentioned that possibility.

Sophie couldn't understand how her brother could stand living at the Fortress. It was pretty, sure enough, but it was barren. The most that grew in Jack Frost's domain were the houseplants people kept in their personal quarters. It was nothing against Jack himself; Sophie loved him as another brother. But the very nature of his magic meant that everything his people ate had to come from somewhere else. And Sophie hadn't become a Master Gardener just to be shut away from green life.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply of the smell of green living things, and rich loam, and the unique chocolate/rabbit hybrid scent of the Easter Bunny.

She opened her eyes and looked up at Bunnymund.

"I love it here," Sophie said, and meant it. But her smile faltered at his expression. He looked too serious, too unsure. "Bunny, what's wrong?"

His mouth narrowed into a line. He looked like he wanted to look away, or possibly run away. But he didn't. Instead, he said, "Sophie, we need to talk."

* * *

Half an hour later, Sophie felt sick. Without a word, she stood, went to the cupboard that she knew held bottles of fruit liquers, selected one at random, grabbed two cups, and returned to Bunny's table. She opened the bottle, sloshed liquer into both containers, pushed one toward Bunny, and raised the other to her own lips, downing about half the contents.

Sophie promptly gagged, making a face. "Ugh, peach." She probably should have actually looked at the label.

Bunny chuckled, sipping his own drink with more moderation. "As you will, sheila."

Well, she hadn't actually wanted alcohol to savor the flavor, just to take her mind into a nice fuzzy state where she wouldn't panic, or, worse, throw up in reaction to what Bunny had told her. Major mutations. In the human gene pool. She knew enough about genetics to see the slippery slope coming. Sophie took another drink, shuddering at the taste. "What're the others doing?"

Bunny shrugged. "We agreed we'd tell the humans we were closest to, let you decide how best to spread the news to avoid a panic. I went and told Eros and Psyche before coming back here." He looked thoughtful, then shrugged. "No idea how they're going to spread it to their people, but I'm sure Psyche'll have some way of keeping 'em all calm. She usually does. Myself, I was thinking of a Council meeting."

Sophie stared at him, then downed the rest of the glass in one go. A second later, she started coughing.

"There, there, sheila." A broad hand, gentle and warm for all its strength, patted her back. "It won't be like the last Council meeting. I promise you that."

"You can't promise that," Sophie choked, tears blinding her eyes. "We're barely hanging on, Bunny, you know that."

"Thought we were doing okay." He sounded puzzled.

She shook her head, looked up at him. The pooka was a gray-white blur. "Physically, maybe. Psychologically? It's going to take generations to get over this. When I'm dead, when everyone who remembers the world that was is dead, _maybe_ we'll all be healed up..."

"Sheila." The broad hand was soft on her hair now. "You didn't have anything to eat before drinkin' all that, did you? You know it's strong."

Sophie shook her head. She wasn't just upset because of his homebrew. She wasn't! "We've all lost everything, Bunny," she told him. "Even those of us lucky enough to get out with family. Our whole world's gone."

Bunny was still and quiet for a moment, then he sighed, a long, slow sound. "You don't have to tell me what it's like, Soph. I remember losin' a world, too."

She glanced up at him. Even through her tears, she could see the sadness in his green eyes.

"Manny... he probably saved me," Bunny said, glancing up at the ceiling as though he could see the moon through it. "Poor tyke, he lost his whole world too. But all he thought of was the other kids he could see, and how to save them. And when he picked me, picked all of us, to help in that... that duty's probably the best thing I've ever been given. Gave me purpose again. Gave me a reason to go on. And eventually, after a couple thousand years, I found people to go on for." His hand rested on hers, soft and so strong. "We've all got somethin' to go on for, Soph. And that gives me hope."

* * *

He ended up carrying Sophie back to her home and tucking her in like he hadn't since she was a little girl. Aster made sure to leave a glass of water on her bedside table, and a bucket beside it. Just in case. Soothing his ankle biter's hair one more time, he closed the door behind himself and went back to where her husband, Craig Pierce, waited, his dark eyes concerned.

With a sigh, Aster dropped into the seat opposite Craig.

"She's happy when she's in the gardens," Craig said quietly. "It's only when she has to deal with people and politics that Sophia starts to get down." He adjusted his glasses. "Unfortunately, she's a Bennett."

Aster nodded. "And ain't a person alive who doesn't know that name, and what it means."

"I'll stand as her proxy on the Council," Craig said. "I've done my share of the civic and economic planning too. And there's no rule it has to be a Bennett by blood." He fell silent for a moment. "Having to act as jury was hard on her," he eventually said, solemn. "She's still not recovered from having to exile those men to certain death. I'm not sure if she can, or will, ever sit on the Council again."

Aster chuffed a snort. Then fell pensive. "Still don't understand you humans, after all these millennia," he murmured, shaking his head. "How anyone could want to destroy a sanctuary..."

"If it helps," Craig said, "most of us humans don't understand extremists either."

Aster closed his eyes, remembering his own kind. Most of the time, external appearance notwithstanding, humans seemed so similar to the pooka. But then something like that small cell happened, stockpiling materials to make bombs and blow the Warren and all its inhabitants sky-high just for not aligning perfectly with their interpretations of their holy book. Or, in fact, something happened like the damned war that had caused this entire situation, though Aster laid a good deal of the blame for that at Pitch's feet. There hadn't been anything like that among his own people. Oh, there'd been disagreements and arguments and grudges, to be sure, but nothing... murderous.

"How d'ya think the Council'll take today's news?" he asked.

"That mutations are starting to show up?" Aster could practically hear the shrug. "As well as humans ever take anything. Which is to say, lots of panicking and screaming and blame games. And eventually settling down and accepting things. Because no matter what, we've still got work to do. Food to grow and preserve and ship out. Kiddies to get to school. That kind of thing."

Aster had to smile. He liked Craig. He doubted Sophie could've found a better man to be her husband and father to her children. "Soph was lucky the day she met you," he said, opening his eyes again.

"I prefer to think I was the lucky one that day." Craig hesitated, then laid a hand on Aster's shoulder. "If there's anything I can do to help..."

"Stay a voice of reason," Aster said. He had no doubt Craig was right about how people were going to react. "I'll go call the meeting for tomorrow morning, yeah?"

Craig nodded. "I'll be there, Aster."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** At long last, I have defeated the evil spirits preventing me from finishing this chapter. (Mainly by promising them the economics of how this world works will get put into the next part. Also possibly zoos and raiding parties.)

As an important point, please note the story does not say which religous tome the religous extremists mentioned herein clung to. This is deliberate. I'm not asking the story, because the specifics are not relevant. And from Bunny's (outsider) point of view, I suspect one human faith seems a lot like another anyway. There are a lot of survivors in this universe who have broken completely. And a lot who have broken partially. Both of which I hope to delve more into when I get to Sandman's chapter.


End file.
